See, Speak, Hear No Evil
by Aini NuFire
Summary: S12 case!fic- A witch's curse steals the senses of Team Free Will in order to weaken their defenses at the bunker.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This fic is just a short, three-chapter fic. Some of you may recognize this plot idea from an episode of _Charmed_. That's where I got it from.**

 **Disclaimer: _Supernatural_ isn't mine. Thanks to 29Pieces for beta reading!**

* * *

Chapter 1

"Yeah, we're just pulling up," Sam said, then disconnected the call as Dean parked along the curb in front of the county morgue for Hastings, Kansas, a town right in their own backyard. "Cas is here," Sam relayed, scanning the street for the angel's truck.

"Good. Let's do this," Dean grumbled, and got out of the car.

Sam followed. He understood why his brother was so tense. A report of a victim found with his insides completely burned but no sign of damage to the outside, save his eyes, suggested angel. And there was only one angelic being currently burning his way through vessels across the country. The fact that Lucifer might have worked his way back to Kansas and so close to Lebanon was definitely cause for concern. Maybe the Devil wanted some revenge after what happened at the night club with his last vessel, the rock star Vince Vincente, burning out.

Sam and Dean headed up the walkway, slowing when they spotted Cas coming toward them from a side parking lot.

"Hey," Dean said. "You got anything?"

Cas shook his head. "I haven't been inside yet. I did talk to the sheriff, and so far there haven't been any other incidents like this one."

Sam didn't know whether to be relieved by that or not. Did it mean Lucifer had moved on? Or that he'd found another vessel to hold him over for a bit, and was now making plans against the Winchesters? Not that they knew for sure it _was_ Lucifer. Sam shouldn't let himself jump the gun.

He pulled out his fake credentials to be ready to show the attendant inside the morgue. That got them easy access, as usual, and the three of them were then led down the hall to the examination room where the victim, Keith Reynolds, was still laid out. The medical examiner wasn't in at the moment, but they were given a copy of the report and then left alone.

Sam quickly scanned the findings. Internal organs vaporized. Eyes burned out. Yet no exterior trauma.

Cas went around the other side of the slab and leaned over the body, squinting at it in deep scrutiny. Sam tried not to fidget while he waited for a pronouncement.

Finally, Cas straightened. "This wasn't an angel."

Sam's brows shot upward. "Wait, it's not? How can you tell?" He didn't know whether he was relieved or disappointed. After all, they still had to find Lucifer and figure out a way to lock him back in the Cage. They really needed a lead on that.

Cas pursed his mouth. "It's…different on the molecular level," he struggled to explain. "When an angel possesses a vessel, their grace fills every pore. There should be degradation within the blood and skin cells if the vessel isn't compatible. Not visibly noticeable, but there. I don't sense that here. The internal damage is centralized."

Sam frowned as he glanced at the victim's eyes. It certainly _looked_ like an angel burning out. "Okay, so, could this be an angel's doing, just not from possession?"

Cas furrowed his brow. "I suppose. But most of the angels have chosen to stay in Heaven, and Lucifer would be searching for a vessel."

"Maybe he found one," Dean put in. "We should check the vic's place, see if someone else was there who might now be Lucifer's latest prom dress."

"And if he did," Sam said, "don't you think he's being kind of obvious?" He gestured to the body.

Cas's eyes narrowed. "Sam's right. It could be a trap."

"We'll go in ready for one," Dean replied.

Sam's stomach tightened, but they needed to do this. They headed out, dropping off the file with the attendant before returning to their respective vehicles and then driving over to the vic's place. Dean parked across the street from the house, Cas's truck pulling up behind them. Everything seemed quiet, a solemn hush on the neighborhood probably triggered by the yellow police tape across the front door as a stark reminder of recent events.

Sam and Dean retrieved their angel blades from the trunk, along with the Enochian handcuffs, not that they'd ever had much luck getting those on Lucifer. Holy oil only worked when setting up a trap, not potentially walking into one, and they couldn't use an angel banishing sigil because the whole point was to capture Lucifer, not blast him halfway across the world and start the hunt all over again.

"Think we should have called Rowena?" Sam asked uncertainly.

"Rowena won't come unless we have confirmation it's Lucifer," Cas replied, pulling out his own angel blade. "I'll go in first."

Dean shot a hand out to stop him. "Nuh-uh. We do this together."

Cas gave him a brief scowl, but Dean was already starting across the street. Sam followed. He kept his eyes peeled on the area while Dean made quick work of the lock, and then the three of them silently swept inside, weapons up at the ready.

The foyer was empty, as was the living room. Nothing seemed out of place, either. Sam strained to listen, but couldn't hear anything. He glanced at Cas questioningly, but the angel just gave a slight head shake, indicating he wasn't sensing anything either. Cas and Dean split off to check the rest of the house.

Sam roved his gaze around the living room. Statements said Reynolds lived alone, and there weren't any pictures to suggest he'd been in a relationship with someone who might have been staying here when he was attacked. The body had been discovered by a mail carrier hiding a package behind the bushes beneath the window. Sam started trying to think of other motives, like maybe this guy had something someone wanted. He went to a desk in the dining room to go through the drawers, yet wasn't finding anything related to the supernatural.

Until his fingers brushed against a soft pouch. He lifted it up to get a good look. That hadn't been what he was expecting.

He made his way back to the foyer, scanning for other items of the same type as the small sachet in his hand.

Dean and Cas joined him a moment later, their weapons down.

"Place is empty," Dean reported.

"I found this," Sam said, and held up the hex bag. "Looks like it's not Lucifer at all."

Dean's eyes darkened at the pouch. "Witches, awesome."

Cas let out a small breath, seeming almost disappointed and relieved like Sam had been earlier. "I suppose I should have asked the sheriff when I talked to him whether our victim had any enemies."

"None of us were thinking that at the time," Dean said, then turned to Sam. "We sure it doesn't belong to our dead guy?"

"I haven't seen any other witch paraphernalia. You?"

Dean shook his head.

Sam stepped around his brother to check the hall closet. Maybe their victim was a closeted witch. Sam mentally shook himself at the unintentional pun. He opened the door, and let out a startled yelp as something small and dark immediately leaped out at him. He backpedaled, but had nowhere to go in the small hallway, and his back hit the wall just as the thing landed on his shoulder, a spindly tail curling around his neck for balance.

Dean had whipped his gun up, but his expression quickly shifted from kill-it to bewildered. "What the…"

The monkey clapped a hand over Sam's mouth, and he jerked his head away. It let out a chittering screech in response.

Dean started to lower his weapon and let out a chuckle. "Aw, Sam, you made a friend."

Sam shot him a dark glower, but before he could respond, the monkey launched itself toward Dean, deftly landing on his shoulders instead.

"Hey, get off!" Dean flailed at it as the monkey curled around his head and clung its paws against his ears. Dean let out curse as he finally smacked the creature, and this time it jumped to Cas, letting out an irritated shriek as it clapped its hands over the angel's eyes. Then it leaped down and took off around the corner.

Dean gave himself a sharp shake. "Filthy thing."

Sam smirked at his brother. "You know that monkey could potentially be a witness. Maybe it saw what happened to its owner. You should do that spell to communicate with it like you did with the German Shepherd." He folded his arms across his chest, already imagining Dean taking on some of a monkey's mannerisms.

Dean's eyes darkened as he fumed back at Sam. "Or Cas can just interrogate the monkey, angel style," he snapped.

Cas gave them both weird looks before apparently deciding it wasn't worth it, and stalked off after the animal.

Sam gave the closet a cursory once-over, since that's what he'd intended to do in the first place. But there weren't any witch materials to implicate their victim as one. Sam paused. Nor were there any pet supplies.

Cas came back a few moments later. "The monkey disappeared."

Sam's mouth turned down. "Think it was a witch's familiar? I don't see any pet supplies."

Cas canted his head. "Perhaps it was here to finish something."

"Awesome," Dean grumbled. "I hate witches. And I hate monkeys."

Sam rolled his eyes.

Cas shifted his weight. "Since this isn't Lucifer…I should get back out there looking for him. You don't need my help for this case anyway, do you?"

Dean shrugged. "Not like there's much to go on. But yeah, we can handle it."

"Cas," Sam interjected. "You know we can help you look for Lucifer, too."

Cas nodded. "I know. But this is your thing here. And finding Lucifer is mine."

Sam held back a sigh. Cas was too stubborn sometimes. "Okay, well…call us, alright?"

Cas met his gaze and gave him a subtle nod. One of those that Sam could tell had the silent caveat, 'if necessary.' And Cas's definition of necessary was far different from theirs.

They headed outside, and Sam and Dean watched Cas get in his truck and drive off.

"Now what?" Sam said out loud.

Dean sighed. "Go back to the bunker, see if there have been any other witchy happenings in the area. Research our dead guy."

Sam glanced back at the house. There really hadn't been much to go on. So they headed toward the Impala. Sam paused just as he was opening the passenger side door, something prickling the hairs on the back of his neck, like he was being watched.

He slowly turned to scan the area, but it was just as quiet and empty as when they'd arrived.

"You comin'?" Dean said, shattering the silence.

"Yeah." Sam slid into the passenger seat, and they got on the road to head home.

* * *

Castiel drove west out of town. Not that he had a destination in mind, or any lead whatsoever on Lucifer. These constant fruitless endeavors irked him. This had been the only lead on the Devil's whereabouts since Los Angeles, and while Castiel had been desperate for one, he'd also been terrified when he got the message of Lucifer potentially being so close to the bunker. Thanks to Castiel letting the archangel possess him, Lucifer now knew exactly how to gain entrance to the Winchesters' home.

Castiel had berated himself for leaving them unprotected. Yet he couldn't _not_ go out searching. Yes, Lucifer might want vengeance, but if his actions while possessing Vince Vincente were any indication, Lucifer was on some kind of mental downward spiral, and his grievance against God might be more motivating than two humans. Even if those humans _had_ locked him in the Cage.

So Castiel couldn't stick around when the case had proven to be non-angelic in nature, despite missing the companionship of his friends. But he _needed_ to find Lucifer. Needed to make things right.

The edges of his vision started to blur, and Castiel blinked a few times to clear it. It'd been a while since he'd experienced fatigue and nodding off at the wheel, but he didn't feel tired. With his grace restored, he could work himself nonstop without needing rest. Physically, anyway.

His vision blurred again, this time followed by darkness encroaching in around the sides. Castiel straightened in alarm. His grace felt fine, so why was he suddenly having trouble? He knew he should pull over, but too late, the road ahead made a sharp curve. Castiel slammed on the brakes just as his vision went completely dark, and the tires screeched as the truck started to skid. He instinctively cranked the wheel, but had no idea where he was headed.

He felt the vehicle careen off the road onto gravel, and a moment later the sound of crunching metal exploded around him as a jolting impact flung him forward against the wheel. And there was still nothing but darkness.

* * *

Dean carried the bag of Chinese take-out back to the Impala where Sam was waiting, already digging into the victim's history on his tablet. Kid had the WiFi password for every shop in the entire town saved to his device. Dean was content to wait until they got back to the bunker and had dinner before diving into research himself.

He slipped behind the wheel, passing the plastic bag to his brother and forcing him to set the tablet down. He was about to turn the keys in the ignition when his cell vibrated in his pocket. Dean paused to pull it out, Cas's caller ID on the screen. He swiped the answer key.

"Hey, forget something?"

Cas's voice was garbled on the other end of the line. " _…ne…lp._ "

"What?"

Only muffled sounds came through.

"Dude, are you underwater?" Dean frowned. His own voice sounded oddly distorted. He reached up to rub his ear. "Cas? Hello? Are you there?"

Now he heard nothing, and Dean pulled his phone away to look at the screen. The call was still active.

He put the phone back to his ear. "I can't hear you!" Dean shouted. He still didn't get a response. Must have been a bad connection.

Sam suddenly yanked the phone out of his hand, giving him a weird look as he put it to his own ear and started to speak. Only, nothing came out. Sam's eyes blew wide, and he started moving his mouth more urgently, then shot Dean a frantic look.

Dean just stared at him incredulously. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Wait…why couldn't he hear himself speaking? Dean stiffened. What the hell? Now that he thought about it, he couldn't hear _anything_.

He twisted the keys in the ignition and switched on the stereo. Nothing. Panicking, Dean turned the volume all the way up. Sam flinched and whipped a hand out to crank it back down. Dean had felt the brief vibrations in his chest, but he hadn't heard a single thing.

"Sam," he gasped. "I can't hear anything."

Sam's eyes were saucers, and he gestured to his mouth and throat and shook his head.

Dean paused. "You can't speak?"

Sam nodded vigorously.

Dean blinked, and then snatched his phone back. "Cas, we've got trouble. Sam lost his voice and I'm deaf." It took him a moment to realize he couldn't hear Cas's response. "Dammit!"

Sam took the phone again and hit the speaker button, then shoved it in front of Dean's face with a pointed look.

"Cas," he started, "me and Sam got hexed somehow."

Sam held up a hand as he seemed to be listening to whatever Cas was saying, and his eyes widened in even further alarm.

"What's wrong?" Dean demanded.

Sam's mouth moved before he remembered he couldn't speak. Not that Dean would've been able to hear him if he could.

Shaking his head in obvious vexation, Sam jabbed a finger at the phone, then covered his eyes.

Dean gaped at him dumbly.

Sam repeated the gestures more urgently, ending with another insistent pointing at the phone.

Dean's stomach sank. "Cas lost his eyesight?"

Sam nodded sharply.

Dean reeled back against his seat. "Crap. Cas, where are you?"

He had to wait in mounting frustration while Sam listened to Cas's response, and then his brother was grabbing the notepad from his pocket and a pen to scribble something down. When he held it up, it was a mile marker and highway. Sam then quickly wrote down something else beneath it.

 _Cas, blind, car crash_.

Dean's heart rate kicked up. "Cas, we're coming," he said, throwing the Impala into gear and careening out of the parking lot.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you guests anonymous and Kathy for your reviews!**

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Chapter 2

Sam wasn't sure what to expect when they reached the spot Cas had called from. The sight of the angel's truck run off the road into some trees gave Sam's heart a slight lurch, but then he spotted Cas standing outside the vehicle and simply leaning against it, hands stuffed in his pockets and head back as though he were admiring the sky.

Dean pulled the Impala onto the shoulder and he and Sam scrambled from the car.

"Cas, you okay?" Dean called.

Cas angled his head toward them, but his eyes weren't meeting theirs. "I can't see."

Sam gave him a harried once-over; at least he didn't look hurt otherwise.

"What?" Dean shouted.

Sam rolled his eyes. This was going to get old fast.

Cas sighed, and turned his head searchingly. "Sam?"

Sam moved forward to touch Cas's arm. The angel relaxed a fraction.

"I take it you've lost your voice."

Sam nodded, but then realized Cas couldn't see that. On a whim, he pulled Cas's hand from the trench coat pocket and put his own underneath Cas's palm, bobbing his fist in the ASL sign for 'yes.' The angel knew all languages, supposedly, and Sam remembered reading how deaf-blind people communicated with tactile sign language.

Cas's brow furrowed for a second before it smoothed in understanding. "Are you two all right? Aside from the obvious."

Sam signed 'yes' again, then pointed his index finger toward Cas, making sure the angel could feel the direction in his palm.

"Fine. My grace hasn't suffered, but I can't seem to undo the effects of whatever curse this is." He paused. "Is the truck very damaged? I couldn't tell."

Sam leaned over to get a look at the vehicle. The front was definitely crunched on both ends against two trees, but there wasn't smoke or vapor coming from the engine compartment, so that was good. It took Sam another second to remember the sign for 'no,' tapping his index and middle finger together against his thumb. But he didn't know how to say that they probably shouldn't try driving it at the moment, especially given their predicament.

"Hello!" Dean interrupted, shooting them impatient looks. "What do we do about this?"

Sam held back a sigh and cocked his head toward the Impala, signaling they should get out of here and back to the bunker where they could start looking into whatever curse this might be, and how to undo it. He took Cas's elbow and guided him over to the back door and helped him climb inside. Then he and Dean slid into the seats up front and they turned toward home.

"How did this even happen, anyway?" Dean said loudly.

"I believe the monkey was the instrument that delivered the curse," Cas replied. "It touched each of us, and then we lost our corresponding senses."

Dean craned his head to look over his shoulder. "What?"

Sam smacked him and gestured sharply at the road.

Dean scowled and faced forward again. "We'll have to wait till we get back to the bunker to figure this out," he said.

Sam reached a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

At least the bunker wasn't far and they made it home in short time. Sam helped Cas get down the stairs and into the library where he guided the angel to a chair and eased him into it. He then grabbed his laptop from the other table and opened up a blank document in the word processor. He typed out a heading of " _Things we know,_ " then hit enter twice before rapidly typing out more.

Dean leaned over and read it out loud. "The monkey touched each of us and now we've lost our senses."

"Yes, that's what I said," Cas responded.

Sam tapped his brother's shoulder and pointed to the angel, then at the screen.

Dean glanced between them. "Oh. I'm reading what Sam wrote."

Sam bent over the keyboard and typed, " _Trap?_ "

"Probably," Dean replied. "But by whom?"

"Probably what?" Cas asked.

Sam tapped the screen impatiently again and pointed at Cas.

Dean rolled his eyes in obvious irritation. "This is friggin' annoying. Sam asked if the case was a trap. I say yes. Seems a bit coincidental that monkey just hanging around if we weren't expected."

"This is powerful magic if it can affect an angel," Cas mused.

Sam typed out Cas's response so Dean could see it, then added, " _Rowena?_ "

Dean shook his head. "Rowena's got too much riding on us finding Lucifer and throwing his ass back in the Cage. She wouldn't come after us before then."

"I agree," Cas said. "But perhaps she can help."

Sam wasn't keen on the idea, but he typed it out for his brother.

Dean shrugged and pulled out his phone, tapping a few buttons including the speaker option. The line rang three times before clicking.

"Have you found Lucifer?" a Scottish lilt asked without preamble.

Cas leaned forward in his seat. "No," he answered. "But Sam, Dean, and I have encountered a curse we've never seen before. It appears a monkey somehow stole one of our senses from each of us." Cas's jaw tightened for a moment. "Even me."

Rowena made a thoughtful noise. "Mm, that is a mighty fine curse."

"What's she saying?" Dean demanded.

Rowena chuckled. "I can guess what sense he lost. And since I haven't heard Sam's charming voice, I'm guessing the poor dear lost his tongue."

Cas's brows furrowed. "I don't think literally…" he said, but lifted his head in concern.

Sam hastily typed out on the computer screen, then held it up for Dean to read.

"No, Sam didn't lose his actual tongue. Now how do we undo this?" he snapped.

"Kill the witch who cast the spell," Rowena supplied.

Great, too bad they didn't know who that was.

Sam clacked at the keyboard again.

"Sam wants to know if there's another way," Dean relayed.

"Not without the monkey totem. You are correct the monkey was the curse's delivery system, so to speak. After stealing your senses, it would have returned to the witch it belonged to and transformed back into its totem form." Rowena paused. "Sorry I can't be of more help."

Sam couldn't tell whether she sounded genuine or bored, and he shook his head in frustration. That hadn't gotten them anywhere. He took the phone out of Dean's hand and hung up.

His brother just looked at him. "I take it the answer was no."

Sam leaned over the laptop again and typed out that no, Rowena couldn't help them.

"So what's the way to break the spell?" Dean went on.

" _Kill the witch who cast it,_ " Sam typed.

"Awesome," Dean muttered. "Which means we have to find out who it was and where they are."

And with each of them handicapped in some way, that wasn't gonna be easy.

The distant creak of the bunker door perked Sam's ears up, and for a moment he felt a surge of relief if Mom had decided to stop in on them. They could really use her help, even if she was trying to avoid hunting.

But it wasn't Mary who came into the war room.

Sam's eyes widened in alarm as two men and one woman strode toward them. At the expression on his face, Dean whirled around.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded.

Cas was pushing himself up out of his chair, but before any of them could do more than that, the intruders smirked, and one of them raised a palm and uttered an incantation. An invisible force slammed into Sam's chest, throwing the three of them across the room.

* * *

Castiel heard the footsteps coming into the library and then Dean's sharp question, signaling that whoever it was, they weren't invited. He started rising to his feet in preparation to defend, yet before he could even try to hone his senses toward the intruders, magic flung him backward. His back hit the table and slid across it before he crashed to the floor on the other side. Two other resounding thuds echoed nearby.

"Sam, Dean!"

Neither answered, and Castiel mentally cursed because even if they were all right, Sam couldn't respond and Dean couldn't even hear Castiel's cry.

Multiple sets of footsteps clomped further into the library. Castiel wanted to fight back, but he couldn't risk unleashing his grace and hurting Sam or Dean if they weren't able to get his warning in time. He slipped his angel blade down from his sleeve and climbed to his knees, tuning all his attention to his other senses.

There was a displacement of air to his right. Castiel raised his arm, but the blade was suddenly kicked from his hand. He aimed an uppercut where he gauged his opponent to be, and was rewarded when his knuckles connected with a sternum. A grunt pushed from the bruised diaphragm. Castiel focused on the heavy breathing in order to direct his next blow, but another presence came up behind him and a hand slapped across his forehead. One word spilled forth above him, and it was like a bolt of lightning shot through his entire body, seizing his muscles. Even his vocal cords spasmed.

The hand shoved him, and Castiel toppled to the floor on his side, completely paralyzed. His grace churned within him, but it, too, was convulsing under the assault of such powerful magic. To think there had once been a time when nothing could harm an angel. Now Castiel had not only fallen victim to a lowly curse, he'd been subdued without much of a fight.

He could hear more sounds of a scuffle, and then nothing, but he felt the presences around him.

"Tie them up," someone snapped.

Castiel's heart clenched with fury at his helplessness. He should have been able to do more to protect the Winchesters. He took only small consolation at the fact Sam and Dean were still alive—he listened to the soft snicks of handcuffs being cinched.

"Hurry up," the first person growled. "We need to find the artifact."

So this was a raid. Sam was right; the case in Hastings had been a trap to disorient them and weaken their defenses so the bunker could be more easily infiltrated. And it sounded as though these people were after something specific. What?

The floor beneath him vibrated subtly with the approaching footsteps, and Castiel gritted his teeth as his rigid arms were wrenched forward and a set of cuffs were slapped across his wrists as well. The aromas of burnt pine and grease filled his nostrils. Then a hand fisted in the back collar of his coat and started dragging him across the floor. He was roughly deposited against a wall, still unable to move.

"You," one of the witches spoke harshly. "Take us to the artifact storage."

Footsteps retreated, and Castiel was left in utter stillness. He strained his ears and was able to detect quiet breathing, but nothing else. Had a guard not been left? Probably not, if these witches thought their captives had been rendered completely helpless.

Which, was more or less true.

But Castiel could feel the paralyzing spell starting to wane. First his fingers twitched, then his leg. He had to wait for several more, agonizingly long moments before he could turn his head and shift his whole body. He turned toward the sound of shallow breathing to his right and bumped into a body laid out beside him. Castiel grasped at it frantically, trying to discern if it was Sam or Dean. Just as he was moving his hands up an arm to a shoulder, the person jerked awake.

"Cas," Dean gasped. "You okay?"

"Fine. Are you?"

Dean didn't answer. "Where's Sam?" he asked instead.

"The witches are here for something," Castiel replied. "They must be trying to force Sam to take them to it, but I have no idea what it might be."

Dean didn't say anything.

Castiel sighed. "You can't hear me."

"I can't hear you," Dean said a little too loudly.

Castiel thumped his head back against the wall in vexation. How on earth were they supposed to get out of this one?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Thank you guest Kathy for your review! Last chapter, folks. And I regret to announce that I have finally come to the end of a very long and proud posting streak of twice a week for two whole years. Or, I should say my twice a week posting of SPN fics (I do have a Shadowhunters fic that will continue through next week). But my queue for SPN has run out. Not my muse or ideas, and I'm currently working on a fic now, which I hope to have ready for you in another week.**

* * *

Chapter 3

Dean swept his gaze around the empty library. Where had the intruders gone? And where was Sam? The witches must want something; otherwise why keep prisoners? Dean was betting these were the same guys who had cursed them all to begin with, most likely as a way to throw them off guard. It had worked.

But they were too cocky if they thought one Winchester and an angel didn't need to be guarded, even with one of them blind and Dean's hands cuffed behind him to a steam pipe against the wall.

He drew his legs in tightly and strained to reach the lock pick in his boot. Once he palmed it, he set to work on his cuffs, keeping an eye out for the witches returning. His heart hammered with worry for Sam. What if those bastards were torturing him? Dean wouldn't be able to hear a thing. He looked at Cas, who was still lying on the floor, face devoid of expression. Dean took that to mean Sam wasn't somewhere in the bunker screaming.

The lock finally snicked and Dean slipped out of the cuffs, then turned to undo Cas's. Once they were off, Cas started to push himself up into a sitting position, grimacing as he did so.

Dean frowned. "You okay?"

Cas nodded, but Dean just scowled. Was he really expecting a different answer? He'd seen the witch cast some kind of spell that had knocked the angel out completely, but then he'd gotten his own sucker punch that made him black out for a bit, so he hadn't been able to do anything about it.

Dean cast a tense look around the library again. Now came the tricky part of how to fight against these guys. Cas, unfortunately, wasn't gonna be much help, and Dean hated the feeling of vulnerability from not being able to hear someone coming down the hall toward them. He'd have to be careful.

He slunk forward to one of the study tables and retrieved the gun that was strapped to the underside of it. He checked the magazine and sighed. They needed to get some witch killing bullets. Because killing these guys was how they'd break the curse.

Dean turned back to Cas and tried to speak softly, though it was hard to judge the volume of his own voice. "I need to get to the storage rooms for more ammo."

Cas grabbed the pipe on the wall behind him and started to lever himself up.

Dean's mouth pressed into a thin line as he considered his options. He didn't want to leave Cas here while the angel was vulnerable, but guiding him through the bunker was going to slow him down. He briefly thought about finding a room and asking Cas to stay put, but knew that was never gonna happen. Cas would never sit this out as long as he was worried about the Winchesters. And the last thing Dean needed was his friend stumbling into the middle of a fight unprepared.

So he moved back to Cas and took his arm to help him to his feet. "Stick close."

Cas raised his hand and snagged Dean's sleeve at the elbow, then started following as Dean cautiously made his way into the war room and around to one of the corridors. The snail's pace increased his anxiety, but it was only partly due to guiding Cas; the other part was Dean's own tension at not being able to hear what might be around the corner. So it was slow going, but eventually they made it to one of the storage rooms where they kept their weapon supplies.

Dean disengaged from Cas's grip and patted his hand. "Okay, wait right here."

He moved to one of the shelves and started rifling through the cartridges in search of the special bullets. There they were. Dean ejected the magazine from his gun and quickly started swapping out the ammunition. Once again, he thought about leaving Cas in here where it'd be safer while he ventured out to take care of the witches, but just as he finished loading the gun, Cas grabbed him by the shoulders and flung him to the floor.

Dean landed on his back with a grunt, Cas falling on top of him. Above his head, magic exploded against the wall with a shockwave that Dean felt in his ribcage rather than heard. Sparks flew and the lights went out, replaced by the flashing aura of the red emergency lights.

Cas tumbled off of him and Dean immediately rolled onto his stomach, gun in hand, and fired off three rounds at the female witch standing in the doorway. Her body stumbled backward with the impact until she dropped like a dead weight.

Dean scrambled to his feet and hurried over to make sure she was dead. Vacant eyes reflected red as the emergency lights pulsed, briefly illuminating the bright red liquid pooling around her body. Dammit, so much for stealth. Dean may not have heard any of that, but the other two witches would. He could only hope this would work in his favor, hopefully distract the witches and get them to separate, make it easier to pick them off.

And he dearly hoped they wouldn't hurt Sam if they realized their plan was going to hell.

Dean rushed back into the storage room to reload three more bullets into the mag, then decided to fill a second as backup and tucked it in his pocket. He turned to Cas, who'd gotten up off the floor and was standing rigidly, head slightly canted as though listening.

Dean frowned. "How'd you know she was there?"

Cas pointed to his ears.

He took a deep breath. "Right. Okay." Stepping closer, Dean took Cas's hand and guided it up to take hold of his elbow again. "You be my ears."

Cas nodded, and together they crept out into the hall.

* * *

Sam pushed a box aside on the shelf and pulled another one forward, opening it to look inside. He had a hard time holding the flap up and searching through the contents with his wrists cuffed together, but the witches seemed intent on leaving them on. They'd given him a description of the item they'd gone to all this trouble to attain, and Sam had recognized it. He didn't know what it was or what it did, but he figured handing it over to these guys would be a very bad idea, so he was feigning not knowing exactly where it was. Which wasn't technically a lie, but he wasn't giving away that there was a catalog system he could use to look up the item's shelf and slot number.

Instead, Sam kept randomly searching through boxes, hoping he wouldn't accidentally come across it, and hoping he could buy enough time for Dean and Cas to escape and come after them.

…If they could. Dean had been knocked unconscious, and Cas had looked worse, eyes frozen open yet unmoving as he'd been hauled across the floor and dumped next to Dean against the wall. He wasn't dead, though; couldn't be since the witches had bothered to handcuff him, too.

But Sam was still worried, and he kept flicking surreptitious looks around to see if there was any way he could break free from his captors or incapacitate them. The two male witches had stayed with him, while the female had left not long after they'd arrived at the artifact room.

The leader jabbed his shoulder. "What's taking so long?" the guy snapped.

Sam turned and threw his bound hands up dramatically since he couldn't respond with a vocal, "What do you want me to do?"

The witch scowled. "Keep searching."

His companion moved to start tearing into boxes himself, but barely got through the first one when the lights suddenly went out, replaced with the dim pulsing of the emergency lights.

"What the hell?"

Sam felt a thrill of hope that Dean and Cas were probably behind it. These witches really had no idea who they were up against.

"Go find Janice," the leader barked, and the second witch scurried out of the room.

Sam's odds of fighting back were better now… The witch grabbed his shoulder and shoved him against the wall.

"Enough games," he snarled. "Tell me where the box is!"

Sam just shot him a pointed look and moved his mouth soundlessly. Yeah, he'd get right on that, as soon as they _gave him his voice back_.

The witch sneered. "Fine. We'll just kill you and have this place to ourselves to look as long as we need to. Plus, killing the Winchesters and an angel should give us a lot of street cred."

Sam was sorely tempted to roll his eyes. _Bigger guns than you have tried_ , he wanted to say, but, obviously, couldn't. He settled for lunging forward and body slamming the witch with enough force to send the guy crashing backward to the floor. Sam leaped on top of him, intending to knock him out, but wasn't fast enough to stop him from uttering, " _Abi_!"

Sam's legs flipped out from under him as he went flying, narrowly missing a shelving unit and sliding across the floor instead. He landed near the door, and so scrambled to his feet and darted out into the corridor.

The bunker didn't stay dark long; as Sam sprinted down the passageways, the lights came back on. Another sign that Dean was out there somewhere. Sam headed toward the control center.

He rounded the next corner and promptly skidded to a stop as he came face to face with the barrel of a gun. Dean's eyes widened and he jerked the weapon to the side.

"Sam." Dean looked him up and down. "You okay?"

Sam nodded, giving them quick once-overs as well.

Dean stuffed his gun in his waistband and took Sam's wrists, producing a lock pick. "I killed the chick," Dean said in a low voice, as though he were trying to consciously control his volume. "But I guess she wasn't the one who cursed us."

The handcuffs came free and Dean drew his weapon again. "You take any out?"

Sam shook his head regretfully.

Cas suddenly flailed an arm toward Dean and pointed behind the two of them. Sam tensed as the second male witch rounded the corner down the hall. Dean whipped his gun up and fired, but the bullets slammed into a protective shield that flared up in front of the witch.

Dean blinked in dismay. "Crap."

He and Sam both grabbed Cas's arms and started pulling the angel down the corridor with them the opposite direction. They veered toward the library, and Cas tripped on the two steps at the juncture. Sam and Dean barely slowed down to haul him up and keep moving.

"Anyone have any bright ideas?" Dean shouted.

"Sam, get Dean behind me and both of you shut your eyes," Cas ordered.

Sam's eyes widened as he realized Cas's intentions, but he hesitated as the angel kept jerking his head from side to side. There were too many openings into the library and Cas would be a second too slow trying to pinpoint the witches by hearing alone, especially if they came in at different spots. Someone else would have to be his eyes.

Sam grabbed Cas's arm and Dean's, and dragged them both to a corner where they had the widest view of the room. Sam then took Cas by the shoulders and positioned him so he was facing outward.

"Sam, what—" Dean started, but Sam cut him off by yanking him around behind Cas's shoulder. Sam then pointed to Cas, pointed outward, and waggled his fingers.

Dean gave him a dubious look. "Sparkle fingers?"

Sam shot him a bitch-face and snatched the gun out of his hand, setting it on the nearby shelf and then directing Dean's hands to wrap around Cas's arm and raise it like he was aiming that instead. He then lifted his eyebrows as high as he could in pointed meaning.

Dean's expression shifted in understanding.

Cas fidgeted nervously. "Sam, no. You and Dean have to close your eyes."

Sam clasped his shoulder and squeezed as hard as he could to convey that he understood, and he'd take care of it. He then made eye contact with Dean and pointed two fingers at his eyes, then outward in the gesture to be on the lookout and get ready. Then he stepped behind his brother. Dean straightened and adjusted his hold on Cas's arm as he scanned the library. Sam could hear them coming, even though his brother couldn't. This would all come down to a split second's reaction time. Sam braced himself.

The two witches came charging in from the back corridor. Dean swung Cas's arm toward them and shouted,

"Now!"

Sam clapped his hands tightly over his brother's eyes while squeezing his own shut. Blinding light pushed against his eyelids and screams filled the air.

* * *

Castiel retracted his grace the second after its power reached critical mass to incinerate anyone who witnessed the divine glory. The air fizzled with the echo of it, but Dean's hand still firmly wrapped around Castiel's arm assured him that the older Winchester hadn't been hurt in the explosion. He also felt Sam's presence pressed close behind them.

In the next instant, the darkness that had blanketed Castiel's vision suddenly lifted, and he blinked at the sight of the library in disarray, lamp shades on the floor and broken glass from the bulbs scattered about. The bodies of two men were sprawled on the floor as well, eyes burned out. Between them, what looked like a monkey totem lay in pieces.

Castiel turned to Sam and Dean, relieved that he could see for himself that they were okay.

Sam cast a gaping look around the library, then swallowed hard. "Is it over?" he asked tentatively. His face lit up at the sound of his voice. "Oh, thank god."

"I can hear!" Dean exclaimed. He looked at Castiel questioningly.

Castiel gave him a small smile. "The curse has been lifted." He walked over to the bodies and nudged a chunk of the totem with his shoe. "And I don't believe it will ever plague any unsuspecting victims in the future."

"Good riddance," Dean muttered.

Sam came over to stand next to Castiel. "I wonder who these guys were," he mused.

"Nobodies," Dean replied with a scowl. "Nameless schmucks who were too stupid to know better than to try going up against us."

Sam rolled his eyes, but it didn't look like he necessarily disagreed. "Where's the other body?"

"Outside the weapons storage room," Dean answered, shaking his head. "I hate cleaning up after yahoos like this. We should install an in-home incinerator or something."

Sam's nose scrunched up in distaste, though Castiel pondered the usefulness of such an addition. He helped the Winchesters dispose of the bodies and then clean up the library, since it was partly his grace that had damaged the decor. It didn't take too long to straighten everything up between the three of them.

Once it was all done, Castiel sank into a chair at one of the study tables. "I do regret losing yet another vehicle," he commented morosely. It would be difficult to get around without his own set of wheels.

Dean glanced over at him, brow furrowing. He glanced at his watch. "Your truck is probably still there."

"It may not be drivable," Castiel countered glumly.

Dean shrugged. "Then I'll fix it up." He tapped the table. "Come on."

Castiel hesitated. "Are you sure?"

Dean's mouth curved upward at the unmistakable hopefulness Castiel hadn't quite been able to keep out of his tone. "I'm sure. I mean, it's kind of an old piece of junk, but you like it, so…" He cocked his head for Castiel to get up and follow him out. "I'll grab some cables and if it's not drivable, we'll tow it back to the bunker. Baby can handle the haul."

Castiel gave him a soft smile as he rose from his chair. "Thank you. I'd appreciate that."

"You know, Cas," Sam spoke up. "We made quite the team tonight."

Castiel canted his head, mouth quirking fondly. "We usually do."

Sam smiled, but then his eyes sobered meaningfully. "Yeah. So maybe the three of us should look for Lucifer together."

Castiel opened his mouth to immediately respond that Lucifer was his responsibility, but something held him back. He wanted to protect the Winchesters, but tonight's events showed him that being away didn't exactly accomplish that. What if Lucifer had been behind this ploy after all?

Though, even if he had, Castiel didn't imagine the outcome would have been very different. The three of them usually did manage to beat the odds.

Castiel finally nodded. "Maybe we should."

After all, their teamwork was the one thing Lucifer had never been able to defeat.

Or anyone else, for that matter.


End file.
